Halcyon
by OpalEssence
Summary: This is the story of Jazzmine Curare, a thought-speaking empath, and her experiences with Snape and Draco as a 7th year Hogwarts student.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first attempt at publishing a fanfic. I'm a long-term reader, avid fan of HP, and an English major. Hopefully, this story will be easy and enjoyable to read. Please share your thoughts with me.**

**Disclaimer: JKR owns everything… alas. **

Jazzmine Curare walked into the Headmaster's office on August 30th, answering his summons.

"You wanted to speak to me, sir?" Jazz bowed her head slightly and glanced up through her thick eyelashes at Albus Dumbledore.

"Lemon head?" Albus offered, twinkling merrily. When Jazz shook her head, he popped one of the classic muggle candies into his mouth, then continued.

"Miss Curare, as you know, the rest of the students will be arriving tomorrow evening. There will be a feast and a Sorting. The Sorting determines to which house each new students is best suited. While a student is attending Hogwarts, and indeed, after graduation as well, the House and the student share a symbiotic relationship. Normally, you would be sorted along with the first years. However, since you are already at Hogwarts, I see no need to wait until the feast for you to be Sorted. If you wish, we can decide this factor right now." Albus looked expectantly at Jazz, twiddling his thumbs and sucking on his lemon head.

Answering his prompting gaze, Jazz replied, "Of course, Headmaster, as you wish, sir." She didn't quite understand the meaning of the Headmaster's request. How complicated this place was…

Silently wondering how this "Sorting" would be done, Jazz was mildly surprised to see the Headmaster get up out of his office chair, reach above his head, and pull down an old patched hat from a shelf on the wall. The Headmaster held out the hat to Jazz, obviously expecting her to put it on. If there was one thing she did understand, it was non-verbal communication. She'd had plenty of experience with that before she came to Hogwarts…

Jazz obeyed the Headmaster's unspoken order. She braced herself for whatever was to come, consciously checking her mental shields and determining that her mind was seamlessly sealed to the outside. Upon placing the hat on her thick black hair with deep crimson highlights, she was shocked to hear a masculine voice inside her head. However, the Headmaster remained relaxed in his armchair, and he had not yet harmed her in any way, so Jazz released her desire to flee or fight back and simply expelled a calming breath.

"So you're the one everyone has been talking about… And I can see what all the fuss is for – it isn't often one encounters a mind-speaking empathy, even here at Hogwarts." The hat paused for a brief moment, just long enough for Jazz to begin to form a question. It continued with a question of its own. "Hmm, where to put you…?"

After this, the hat remained silent for a length of time, apparently lost in thought. During the silence, Jazz pondered whether or not to question the hat. The Headmaster remained cheerfully silent. Just as Jazz was about to pose her question, the hat declared, "I suppose it will be Slytherin. You have traits well-suited to every house: the common sense of a Ravenclaw; the compassion of a Hufflepuff; the morals of a Gryffindor; and the mistrust of a Slytherin. I think your talents and experiences would be wasted on all but Slytherin; you exhibit a thought process unique to that house. Yes, it will be Slytherin!" And with that the hat fell silent.

Jazz remained frozen for a heartbeat, then reached up and removed the hat from her head. She held out the patched hat to the Headmaster. He took the hat, and as he turned to put it back on the wall shelf, he spoke.

"Well, Miss Curare, it would appear that you are now a Slytherin. I believe Professor Snape would be willing to show you to your quarters?" The Headmaster's words were a combination of statement and question. As he spoke, he looked over Jazz's shoulder.

Jazz turned in line with the Headmaster's gaze and looked to the heavy oak door in surprise. Indeed, there was a dark man waiting at the entrance to the Headmaster's office. It wasn't very often that someone could enter a room, or even a building, without Jazz sensing the person. Most people radiated energy, with their thoughts and emotions displayed on the surface of their minds for all to see. Being an Empath, Jazz was able to sense people's thoughts and emotions, to feel them as though they were her own. She was also able to project her thoughts and emotions onto other people. For these reasons, and more, Jazz had spent years meticulously constructing shields to keep her mind safe from outsiders and to ensure that other people's thoughts remained private. The fact that this dark man had his thoughts shielded implied much about his personality.

Jazz nodded in acknowledgement of the Headmaster, then stood and followed Professor Snape up the stairs and into the castle's corridors. Once in the corridor, Professor Snape walked briskly in the direction of the dungeons. He never spoke nor looked at Jazz.

Snape's pace was designed to cause others to either fall behind or jog to keep up. As such, Snape was annoyed to see Jazz merely lengthen her stride and walk quite comfortably a step behind and to his left. Snarling at this unintentional defiance of his authority, Snape led Jazz on a twisting path, turning every few corridors, purposefully trying to confuse the young woman's sense of direction.

After several minutes of this, Jazz timidly spoke. "Excuse me, Sir, but I can't believe this is really the path from the Headmaster's office to the Slytherin dorms. I mean no disrespect, but –." Jazz broke off, in response to the breath of cold fury that escaped Snape's tight mind walls.

"Excuse _me,_ Miss Curare, but I have spent more years in this school than you have been alive. Furthermore, _I am _the professor, not you, so do not question me." Each word was clearly enunciated, distanced from the other words by ice. Snape's haunting eyes glared into Jazz's deep hazel gaze, involving the two in a staring match. Inside Snape's mind, his thoughts were reeling. Inside Jazz's mind, her thoughts were spinning. A person passing the two in the corridor would have not even a hint that the peoples' interaction was anything but calm.

Attempting to de-escalate the silent battle, Jazz consciously projected an aura of peace and calm past her mental shields and toward Professor Snape.

Sensing this mental projection, Snape snarled and tore his gaze from Jazz, continuing along the corridor in the most direct path toward the dungeons. _How dare she try to calm me?_ Snape thought, furiously. Then, with a hint of curiosity, _Who is this person? _


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here is chapter 2. Hope you're enjoying this. I have the basic framework of this story complete, but I'm filling it in as I go. This will be a long story once it is completed. Ideas? Questions? Comments? Let me know!**

**Again, JKR owns everything.**

Chapter 2

_Who is this girl? _Snape thought, glancing briefly to his left and catching a fleeting glimpse of Jazz's pristine features. Then, as they continued walking, _what will her presence mean for Hogwarts?_

Due to Jazz's special circumstances, she was to have her own separate suite of rooms, which had been created by modifying some unused offices in the dungeons. The main entrance to the suite was along a little-used corridor. This corridor also led to Snape's private quarters, hence the reason for the light traffic it received.

"This is your room," Snape stated, coming to a halt in front of a dragon statue. The gray statue's fragile-looking wings framed its serpentine head, and the emerald gemstone eyes glittered in the candlelight. When Snape issued the password, "Absinthe," the wings furled toward the dragon's body, revealing a narrow passageway.

Jazz paused outside the passageway, and laid a small hand on the smooth, cool stone of the dragon. She appreciated her guard, and recognized the narrow passageway as a security feature. Jazz caressed the statue with a warm thought, then followed Snape through the passageway.

Upon entering, Jazz found herself in a common room, with dark wood flooring, granite walls, a large fire place, simple yet stylish floor rugs, and wooden bookcases. On the wall to the left of the entrance was a door, which, as Snape explained, would soon lead down another passageway to the Slytherin common room.

Jazz walked across the room and opened the door facing the entrance, which turned out to be her bedroom door. Rugs similar to those in her common room provided carpeting over the stone floor. An enormous bed with layers of blankets and plush pillows was in the far left corner. The room also contained a spacious wardrobe and a desk in the same dark wood as the furnishings in the common room. Near the desk was an oversized armchair positioned at an angle to another fireplace. Everything that was not gray stone floor or dark wood furniture was warm earth tones.

Jazz noticed a door to her right. She opened the door and stepped into the most luxurious bathroom she'd ever seen. One wall was taken up entirely by a lighted vanity table and ornate framed mirror. In the center of the room was a bathtub sunk into the floor. In one corner was a shower and a toilet. The room also contained a shelving unit for towels and toiletries.

Completing her visual sweep of the rooms, Jazz caught sight of Snape, who was unobtrusively standing near the bedroom door. "It's wonderful, Sir, thank you so much!" Jazz exclaimed, vaguely gesturing around her to include the entire suite.

Snape was surprised by how happy the suite had made Jazz. He was used to living in luxury; nothing less was acceptable.

"It was no trouble, Miss Curare." True, because the house elves had done all the work. "I will leave you alone to get settled. You will find your belongings have been delivered; they are just inside the common room." He indicated the room behind him. "There are no further requirements for you until 6:00 tomorrow evening, when you will be expected in the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony and Welcome Feast. Dinner is at 6pm tonight; you are welcome to join us. If you require any further services, please call a house elf." Here, Snape paused, collected his thoughts, and then continued. "In an event of an incident regarding your, ah, special abilities, my suite is just down the corridor, behind the tapestry with the battle scene. Good day." And with that, Snape turned and walked out, leaving Jazz in silence.

Jazz, of course, had no problem with this. She enjoyed being alone more than anything else, for it was the only time she felt secure enough to let down the outer barriers to her mind. Jazz took a long, slow breath, held it for a heartbeat, and released it, enjoying the sense of peace she felt. Then, walking back into the common room, Jazz began to unpack.

When 6:00 came, Jazz opted out of eating dinner, and decided to instead go for a run out by the quidditch stadium. She pulled on a sports bra and a pair of shorts, then searched around her already-messy wardrobe for her running shoes. Now that she was dressed for a run, all she had to do was find her way to the castle's entrance… After a short traipse through the castle's hallways, Jazz smiled as she passed through the doors, descended the stairs, and stepped onto the grass. She enjoyed being able to do things how and when she wanted.

The Hogwarts professors were not at all inconvenienced by Miss Curare's absence at dinner. If she had decided to dine with them, then the professors would have been forced to choose an alternate topic of conversation. Miss Curare's appearance was without a doubt the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts that summer. As such, in her absence at dinner, the Head Table was alive with the hum of excited voices.

Glancing to her left, Pomona Sprout, the small, cheerful Herbology professor, looked expectantly at her good friend Madam Hooch, who was ruler of all things related to broomsticks and a shameless people-watcher, and Poppy Pomfrey, the school nurse and confidante of many female students of all ages.

"She's been Sorted into Slytherin, the poor dear!" Sprout exclaimed. "I do hope that crowd isn't too rough for her. Have you heard, she is a mind-speaking Empath!"

Pomfrey nodded excitedly in response to her friend's information. "I heard that she was holed up in a castle in the middle of Russia somewhere, as part of a dark Potions Master's fortress. They say he tested his potions on his slaves!"

Hooch looked aghast. "Poppy, where in Merlin's name did you hear such a thing?"

Sprout quickly replied, "Oh, just a group of ministry officials gobbin' in too public a place. Poor dear certainly doesn't need to catch a rumor about her past on some street corner!"

A new voice chimed in. "Oh but it's true! Every word and more!" Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress, leaned in from Sprout's right side.

Hooch's yellow eyes opened wide. "What do you know about the girl, Minerva?" she asked.

Eager to participate in the gossip that her co-workers regularly enjoyed yet she generally tried to avoid due to her position at Albus' side, Mcgonagall quickly told the women what she knew about Miss Curare.

"It is true that Miss Curare was held imprisoned in an ancient and dilapidated castle deep in the North of Russia. The wizard who riled over the keep was Grindelwald's son and successor, Frithjofr. He was more than slightly insane, as a result of his father's influence and his lifelong seclusion, as common theory goes. He had devoted servants of his father, whom he used to steal wizarding children from small, isolated villages around the world. He used these stolen children as slaves for nearly forty years, up until just over a year ago, when one of his experiments finally killed him, along with most of the inhabitants of his keep."

The women stared at McGonagall with shocked expressions. "How have we not heard about this before, Minerva?" Pomfrey asked tremulously.

"And what about the poor dears who survived? Are there more like Miss Curare?" Sprout's expression was fiercely compassionate.

McGonagall shrugged apologetically. "I'm afraid I do not know what has become of the others. Frithjofr was not greatly publicized here in our area because our Ministry staunchly denied any rumors about a successor to Grindelwald, so of course they could not acknowledge either the wizard's life or expiration."

Hooch succinctly summarized the situation. "So we have a sixteen-year-old child who has never before been subjected to mainstream society, has had a spotty education at best, has experienced unknown horrors as a captive, and is a highly-gifted and sensitive Empath."

"With enemies!" Pomfrey added as an afterthought, as she remembered another tidbit she's overheard. "Those loose-tongued Ministry officials mentioned that Miss Curare was to be placed in protective care as a precaution against those who would seek to harm her. Apparently our new student was quite the troublemaker back in Russia, and Frithjofr's supporters blame her involvement in the potion that lead to Frithjofr's death.

The four women were silent for a few moments as they digested all this information.

"Well, she is here for the duration of the school year. Time will tell how she adjusts to Hogwarts, and how Hogwarts will adjust to her." Hooch spoke softly, voicing the shared thoughts of her friends.

A few tables away, Severus Snape silently thanked whichever higher power was willing to take the credit for women and their gossiping tongues. That information was stored safely away in his mind, more pieces to the puzzle that was Jazzmine Curare.


End file.
